


Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

by Comma_Kaze, jbs_teeth



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Spanish Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comma_Kaze/pseuds/Comma_Kaze, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbs_teeth/pseuds/jbs_teeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God moves in mysterious ways to do wonderful things for Douglas Richardson. Spanish Inquisition AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Please note, we’ve chosen not to use any warnings, but, being that the subject is the Spanish Inquisition, there are some mentions of torture. In the same vein that Monty Python mentions torture.
> 
> Notes: Utterly ridiculous use of anachronisms, blatantly fabricated histories, shoddy research and total lack of seriousness; if you try and learn history from this... well, don’t. We have no actual history here. Also, absolutely no offense intended toward any religion; please read with the humor with which this was written. :)

"Lady Carolyn, I have a complaint!"

"Tell you what, Father Richardson: Why don't you put one knee on the ground, drop your other knee beside it, fold your hands together and tell it to someone who cares."

“As usual, your dedication to my eternal soul is truly inspiring. However, I can’t help but be a touch concerned about your dedication to my earthly well-being, which is what brings me here this afternoon.”

“I assure you, my dedication to your earthly well-being extends only as far as your fitness to continue serving our Church. And by ‘our Church’ I mean me.”

“Your compassion to your subjects is a boon to us all. And, still, I have faith that you’ll be interested in the news I came to share: There’s a delightfully humorous rumour going about that you’ve hired a new Father Something-or-other to be bishop of this diocese instead of the most senior man on staff. That being me.”

“The rumour mills are certainly busy--in fact, one might say they’re even more busy than the grain mills. Perhaps something should be done about that, else we’ll starve from a shortage of wheat whilst we drown beneath a wealth of rumours.”

“Carolyn: Are the rumours true?”

“Indeed, Father Richardson, and well you know why.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but do I?”

“Yes, you do. You will recall the delightfully informative conversation we had concerning the recent adjustment I’ve made to my understanding of and devotion to our most Holy Bible, I believe.”

“You cannot have been serious about that.”

“Oh, but I can. And, I am.”

“You cannot seriously be putting your _divine plan_ into action!”

“Again, I must disappoint you, as I fail to see an alternative.”

“But --”

“Father Richardson, have you any idea how much money it costs to keep an estate of this size running? Keeping the house and grounds intact, providing for the serfs, feeding the herds, feeding the cattle --”

“You said that one twice.”

“The first was a reference to you and your merry band of holy brothers.”

“Oh, of course. Still --”

“‘Still’, nothing. I’m drowning in debt, and you lazy priests are doing nothing to help.”

“I’m certain this ale-brewing scheme of mine is going to catch on. Trust me, one day men around the world will come home after a long day of threshing wheat in the fields and want nothing more than to crack open a flagon of Father Douglas’ Sky God Ale. We’ll paint the label blue and sell it with a note that reads, ‘So good it’s blasphemous!’ And, anyway, the whole ‘brewed by Franciscan monks’ thing has really taken off in Belgium.”

“And the day it flourishes in La Mancha I will be happy to return to a laxer stance on scripture. Until then, this is the best I can come up with. And since you’ve made it clear you won’t participate by doing me the tiny favor of trumping up minor blasphemy charges against the wealthier members of our community through the strictest possible interpretation of the Bible, thereby ensuring a steady income of Inquisition-related fines, I’ve had no choice but to bring on a new bishop who will.”

“Carolyn, you know this plan will never work.”

“I don’t see why not. And, before you can bring up any petty concerns about the safety of our community members, let me assure you on one point. Anyone who chooses not to cooperate as dictated by Inquisition codices need not fear physical retribution from us.”

“Oh, you’re choosing to forgo the pleasure of state-sponsored torture? What happened to ‘playing to your strengths’?”

“Oh, ho-ho. Funny priest. No, I’ve far better things to do than spend my time toiling over a red-hot poker. I’ve put Arthur in charge.”

“Arthur?! He couldn’t hurt a fly! Mainly because he couldn’t catch one, granted, but also because the boy doesn’t have a violent bone in his body. I know; I watched him try to crack open a lobster shell. He nearly burst into tears, and not just because he couldn’t quite figure out how to do it.”

“Well then, he’s ideal for the job, isn’t he? If anyone asks, I have an interrogator-slash-torturer on staff who takes care of those things, and if anyone actually has to _face_ him, they’ve got no chance of injury. It’s a perfect plan.”

“...it is oddly appropriate, I admit. Or, at least, I’m forced to concede. Fine, fine, then; who’s the lucky priest in charge of racking people up on trumped-up charges? A rather thankless and difficult job, I imagine; he’ll have to be both calm and authoritative in order to maintain civility in the diocese in the face of all this.”

“He does have a unique set of qualities that make him perfect for this particular role, but you’ll meet Bishop Crieff soon enough.”

“Well, now I _am_ intrigued. I can’t wait.”

* * *

“Halloo, Douglas! Oh, I mean, Father Richardson. Over here! It’s my pleasure to introduce yourself to himself, Father Martin Crieff.”

“Good afternoon, Arthur. Ah! You must be the new bishop we’ve been hearing so much about. I’m Father Douglas Richardson, your second in command.”

“Ah, h-hello. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met? Well, of course we haven’t met. Arthur wouldn’t have introduced us like that if we had. Yes, I’m Father Martin Crieff. It’s, ah, a pleasure to meet you! I - I’m sure we’ll get along famously. Well, I’m sure we’ll save the souls in our care from the fiery pit of damnation, which is just as good.”

“Indeed. Though I must admit, you’re...not exactly what I was expecting.”

“Er, yes. I mean, most bishops are quite a bit older than me... and have conducted an actual mass before. Also, for some reason, they’re usually taller. And less... ginger. But, I can assure you that I am perfectly qualified for this position! I can recite Leviticus from memory, and I studied for seven years in seminary before joining the Tribunal. I know I don’t look like much, but I’m perfectly suited to work as bishop in the MJN diocese. Er, speaking of that... I don’t suppose you know what the initials stand for?”

“My Jurisdiction Now. Her Lady Carolyn has a dearly departed husband and something of a wry sense of humour, as I’m now beginning to understand better than ever.”

“I see. Well--”

“Oh, I’ve just had a brilliant idea!”

“‘Brilliant,’ Arthur, really? I suppose it’s my duty to believe miracles can happen, but that’s asking an awful lot.”

“No, truly, it’s brilliant! You know how Father Crieff is new here at MJN?”

“Seeing as how it’s been approximately 15 seconds since we last discussed it, yes.”

“Okay, so what’s the one thing that can make anyone feel at home?”

“Their actual home?”

“Besides that.”

“I’m afraid I’m at a loss. But, thank you, Arthur, for being so concerned about my comfort. You must remember, though, that physical or even emotional comfort is not important --”

“Nicknames!”

“I’m... sorry?”

“I’ll give you a nickname, and you’ll start feeling at home in no time.”

“I take it all back. Arthur, you’re brilliant. Have you anything in mind? Though, I am aware it might be stretching credibility that you’ve had two things in your mind today.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do, Douglas. I thought we could call him Skipper. Because he’s skipped so many steps before becoming a bishop.”

“...”

“Arthur, this truly is a miraculous day. I’m tempted to suggest that God is speaking directly through you at this moment.”

“Thanks, Douglas!”

“...”

“Oh, dear. Skipper seems to have lost his voice. Perhaps you could fetch him a beverage. Would you care for a taste of our home-brewed Sky God Ale? It’s divinely good.”

“Liquor? Most definitely not!”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Perhaps just some regular water for Skip, then, Arthur, as he seems to have regained the divine gift of speech.”

“Right-o. Back in a tick.”

“So, Skip, I wanted to ask --”

“You may address me as Father Crieff or Bishop Crieff, if not The Most Reverend, as is my right as bishop of this diocese.”

“I suppose I could do ‘TMR,’ if you truly felt it necessary.”

“I am the bishop here, and while I understand the previous Father let your morality slide, Lady Carolyn has been shown the light. We will be operating under my aegis now, and you will pay me the respect I deserve.”

“Oh, you may be certain of that.”

“‘You may be certain of that,’ what, Father Richardson?”

“You may be certain of that, Father.”

“The Most Reverend.”

“You may be certain of that, Father The Most Reverend.”

“Hello, Fathers! I’m back.”

“Father Richardson, are you aware that it’s blasphemous to be disrespectful to your sacred superiors?”

“Yes. And your point is?”

“Oh, no. It sounds a bit shouty over here. Are you two not getting along already? That can’t be right. We’ve just given each other fun nicknames! Or, is that the problem? Does Father Richardson need a nickname, too?”

“Arthur --”

“...shut up!”

“Oh, see that, gents? You’re already finishing each other’s sentences. You’re like two peas in a pod. Two P’s. Two Pontius Pilates. You’re co-Pilates already!”

“A self-important, judgmental Roman: That sounds about right to me.”

 

“Did you just compare me to the persecutor of our Lord, Jesus Christ? You will apologize at once.”

“Apologize, my sweet aunt Maria’s ar--”

“Douglas, please don’t make me discipline you. My orders... I, I mean, my responsibility, is to cleanse your soul by way of the Inquisition inquiry.”

“I’ll apologize when hell freezes over.”

“Blasphemy! Arthur, tell Lady Carolyn the rack is about to receive her first visitor.” 

* * *

“Hi, Douglas! I didn’t think you’d be my first client down here, you being a priest and all!”

“Yes, hello again, Arthur. Mind my joints as you strap me in, would you? I’m a bit sore from lifting ale barrels.”

“Sure thing! Hold still...and, done. Well, even though it’s not the best place to end up, it is pretty exciting that you’re the first person on her. So, it’s a pleasure for myself to welcome yourself on GERTI’s board today.”

“GERTI, Arthur? What is that? Surely these things don’t come with brand names, now.”

“No, of course not. It’s a name I came up with for her! GERTI: God’s Error-Reducing Truth Instrument.”

“At least you’ll never lose her in a crowd. I literally cannot imagine another rack named... anything, really.”

“Exactly! Wow, that’s what I was thinking when I named her; you guessed what I’d been thinking, Douglas!

“Now, I’m supposed to turn this cranky thing until you get a bit stretched out. But, I don’t want to hurt you, so tell me when I’ve turned it far enough that you feel repenty. That should be right before it starts to smart.”

“Thank you; I’ll be sure to let you know. Though, I was led to understand that there’s supposed to be a spot of interrogation going on about this point? Aren’t you meant to question me until I confess?”

“Well, yes, but I’m also supposed to make you confess by hurting you, and that isn’t very nice at all! So, I figure: As long as you confess, why bother with all the hurty bits? This way, you can confess, I can tell Mum that I stretched you out on the rack, Mum gets her fines from you and no one has to get hurt! Brilliant, isn’t it?

“Now, please keep all arms and legs within the confines of the rack and hold on just one minute... Hunh. That’s odd. Nothing seems to be happening. It’s supposed to get tighter as I turn the crank, but I’m turning the crank and nothing’s happening.”

“Lord knows why I’m intervening here, but isn’t it ‘Righty tighty, lefty loosey’?”

“Oh, right-o!

“So, Douglas, what’d you get sent down here for, anyway? I thought you were one of Mum’s favourites, and that’s why you always got away with all the things the rest of us aren’t supposed to get away with because they’re sins. At least, that’s what Mum tells me.”

“Well, Arthur, it turns out that being Lady Carolyn’s favourite doesn’t do you a whit of good if Father Crieff decides that your ‘venal sins’ are enough to warrant penance and ‘the paying of fine’ to save your soul.”

“Wow, I can’t believe Father Crieff sent you down to my dungeons for blasphemy. I thought he was taking it rather well, actually, when you were talking to him about it. I mean, his face was doing that twitchy thing, but Mum sent me to a conclave on understanding people in Rome, and they said that a twitchy face means that people are trying not to laugh! Especially when their faces go that funny red colour.”

“Hmm, yes, that might be so sometimes, but not in this case. Fortunately, no one seems to have told Father Crieff about your tender torture technique, yet, so he thinks that he’s actually sent me to some sort of punishment. Aahh, speaking of, I think I can feel that repentance creeping--oh!”

“Douglas? Douglas, are you alright? I don’t think you’re supposed to make that cracking noise! You were supposed to repent _before_ it started to hurt, remember?”

“I--I’m fine, Arthur. Oohhh, actually... actually, that feels rather _good._ Do me a favour and loosen those ropes so I can stretch a bit, would you?”

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright, Douglas? It’s just that I’ve seen pictures of how _other_ interrogators do this, and I don’t want you to be all stretched out like the people in the pictures. They looked like they were in a lot of pain. Or maybe they were sleeping; it was hard to tell. But, either way, it didn’t look good.”

“No, I’m perfectly alright. In fact, I feel even better now than I did when you first strapped me in! It’s like all the tension in my lower back has just disappeared. I think that crack you heard was my spine.”

“Yeah; I’d thought I’d snapped it by accident. It reminded me of that poor lobster.”

“Well, I don’t know what happened, but it feels amazing. Thank you, Arthur, and praise the Lord. He has truly brought me a gift in this relief of pain, and all because I repented in His name. Amen!”

“Ah, men!”

* * *

“Father Richardson! I’m glad to see you up and about. I thought after the first week of your recovery that Arthur had taken things a little far, but I see your second week of recuperation has done you the world of good. I hope your punishment at the hands of Lady Carolyn’s interrogator wasn’t too hard on you, and that you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Well, I’ve certainly learned _a_ lesson from my... ordeal. Father Crieff, do you believe in our Lord granting personal miracles? Because I do believe that He gave me a miracle in that experience down in the depths of the dungeon.”

“O-Oh. Er, yes, I suppose I do. And, I’m very pleased to hear that it had such a profound impact on you. I trust there will be no further instances of blasphemous behaviour out of you? It’s very unprofessional and unbecoming of a priest, whose duty and privilege is to represent and serve our Lord.”

“Certainly not; I wouldn’t dream of it! Though, now that we’ve regained our equilibrium, I did have a question about our shared faith that’s been bothering me, and I was hoping that you might be able to enter a debate with me to help me resolve my uncertainty. After all, I gladly bow to your superior expertise and seniority in this matter.”

 

“I--er, of course, I’d be glad to help however I can. And, I’m glad that you’ve come to accept your position and to understand your responsibility to defer to my authority. So, what is troubling you?”

“Well, Father Crieff, I had some concerns about one of the stories in the Bible. I can’t be bothered to remember the specific verses, of course, or even the Book, but it described the circumstances of the Virgin Mary’s entrance to Bethlehem and the baby Jesus Christ’s miraculous birth.”

“Yes, Luke 1:26-2:7. What was your question? It seemed rather straight-forward to me, but I can imagine that minds less-trained in the matters of theological thought might have been stumped by certain details. Did you wish me to clarify the importance of the three Kings’ gifts?”

“No, my question was rather more general. Do you believe that the story in question was strictly factual?”

“I--what? Sorry, how do you mean?”

“Well, I think ‘virgin’ might be stretching it a bit. I mean, let’s be honest here, among friends. If the good Lady Helena from the diocese just north of here were to seek entrance to MJN with a baby and a boyfriend in tow, claiming that she was still a virgin and had been impregnated by God Himself … I'm adding two and two together, and I'm certainly not coming out with one plus zero, if you catch my drift. Though, perhaps they did math -- or biology -- a bit differently back then.”

“Father Richardson, are you suggesting that the Virgin Mary, the Holy Mother, _lied?_ ”

“Call a sparrow a sparrow. It’s certainly the more reasonable explanation, isn’t it?”

“I--You--But--You can’t say that! You’re a man of the cloth! You’ve sworn to uphold the Word of God!”

“Oh, it’s just a little thought that’s been kicking around the back of my mind. Indulge me.”

“I already gave you an indulgence; it obviously didn’t stick! What is the _matter_ with you?!”

“Well, I suppose I’m just a skeptic, deep down, with a fair set of critical thinking skills. Or maybe, it’s that I _don’t like being told what to do._ ‘Believe,’ sorry; I meant to say, ‘I don’t like being told what to believe,’ of course.”

“This is insanity. I don’t know what to do with you, but I just can’t have this level of heresy! An adjutor bishop in the MJN diocese, even -- claiming that the Biblical story of the Virgin Mary is _false?_ You’ll tarnish the entire Church’s reputation! Haven’t you got any loyalty to your religion?”

“Hmm...not especially. I suppose this means another session in the Lady Carolyn’s torture chambers?”

“I’m afraid so. For the sake of your eternal salvation, Father Douglas Richardson, I am arresting you on charges of blasphemy. Again. May God have mercy on your soul.”

* * *

“Hullo again, Douglas! I’m glad you came down when you did; I wanted to thank you for suggesting stones instead of hot coals. They’re so much cleaner and don’t leave nearly as much a mess on my clothes!”

“Always glad to be of assistance, dear boy.”

“And, thanks for going down to the river to pick out the stones. They’re so smooth on my hands. However did you get the idea?”

“Well, you know of my interest in brewing.”

“You got the idea from beer? Wow! That’s just like how Mum got the idea for some sort of flying machine while drinking wine.”

“The good Lord has been gracious enough to grant me an inspiration or two at the bottom of a flagon of ale, but this time such was not the case. You know how I like to keep up with the latest brewing techniques out of Belgium? Well, I’ve been corresponding with a certain monk I know near the city of Spa; lovely little town, Spa. Lots of interesting things to do; I think some of their ideas are going to be big. But, anyway, my friend told me their local masseur uses this techniques in all his … interrogations.”

“What’s a ‘mas’-- that?”

“It’s French for ‘torturer.’”

“Brilliant! I guess I’m a masseur then.”

“Indeed you are. That’s just what I was telling my Belgian friend ... and a few more of my friends down at the pub. Everyone’s quite eager to see you succeed at it, too.”

“Great! I guess I better get this right, then. So, what am I meant to do next?”

“Did you bring any gloves?”

“Oh, no! I didn’t!”

“Ah. Well then, I guess you’ll just have to wait until the rocks cool down enough not to burn your hands. We wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, Douglas.”

“Now, when you’re ready, pick up the rocks and start rubbing them up and down my back. Don’t be afraid to apply some pressure. That’s what we’re here for, after all. Ready? Great … Oooh, Lower, lower... little to the left. Oh yeah. Right there. Oh, God! I feel cleansed of sin already.”

“Really? That was fast. This really _is_ effective, isn’t it? Well, I guess we’re done --”

“Wait! I feel the sin coming back over me. Quickly, go back to what you were doing just now. Ahhh, _perfect..._ ”

* * *

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been one week since my last confession.”

“What have you to confess, my child?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been gossipping.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. What were you gossiping about?”

“Miracles. They’ve been saying you experienced a miracle in the dungeons, and God healed you for your repentance. And, with this season’s harvest being so bountiful, I’ve been wishing for a miracle of my own.”

“Oh, I do see. It’s unfortunate, then, that your sins are so slight when God’s benevolence is so heavy.”

“I fear my back may truly break under the weight of such holy blessings.”

“Yes, I was blessed myself in the form of a new marble altar, just a few days ago. Let me tell you, it was impossible not to feel the full gravity of God’s favour whilst carrying His gift into the nave; I’m feeling it right now, in fact. And so, it is comforting in the extreme to know that salvation awaits by the grace of Lady Carolyn’s wisdom, should I fall into sin again. Which very well may be later on this afternoon.”

“And how far into sin might one have to fall, exactly, in order to experience that cleansing power for one’s self?”

“Fortunately, it’s not the size of the sin that counts, but rather the ear of the man who hears it. For example, if you were to leave my confessional, walk two doors down and confess to the priest in that particular oratory, you might find yourself put on the path to enlightenment. Perhaps along the way you might think some impure thoughts about our illustrious Father Crieff, and, as a devout Christian, feel compelled to divulge that information to him during your confession.”

“But, I fear I could not pay the fines levied for a sin quite so ... venal.”

“As it happens, the ale brewing business is picking up, and, as a result, there are quite a few barrels in my cellar that need transport. If one of us were to carelessly leave an extra barrel in the back of your wagon, and you were to offload the burdensome surplus onto your brother-in-law, the pub-keeper in Toledo, for a fair price, well... these things happen.”

“Thank you, Father Richardson! I don’t think I’ve ever left a confessional feeling quite so enlightened.”

“Go with God, my child.”

* * *

“Douglas! Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

“Arthur, my boy, what can I do for you? Did you need some adjustments to your new masseur's table?”

“No, Father Richardson, the new table is brilliant! Cutting a hole at one end to fit your face into was genius. It makes working over my client’s backs easy as pie.”

“I’m glad you like it. What then, my strong-fingered friend, can I do for you today? I don’t remember saying anything too blasphemous before breakfast this morning, but I have been wanting to try out the new lavender-infused hot oils, so I can come right down if necessary.”

“No, silly, nothing like that. Mum sent me down to tell you to get your lazy ar-- to get your Holy self down to the fields to help with the harvest.”

“Ah. I see. Well, why don’t you tell her --”

“Sorry, Father. Mum said I wasn’t supposed to listen to anything you said once I’d delivered the message. But, don’t worry. It’ll be fun! It’s a beautiful day outside, the birds are chirping, and I hear Father Dirk has a new song he’s written for lyre and lute.”

“Well, then, it seems I have no choice. In that case, before you return to the harvest party, do me one favour: Stop by Father Crieff’s office and let him know I’d like a word tomorrow morning. I have this new theory about Mary Magdalene I’d like to discuss with him. I’ve been thinking that whole prostitute thing was probably blown way out of proportion; I’m sure she was just a nice Jewish girl looking for a nice Jewish boy to settle down with.”

“Oh, I really don’t think Father Crieff is going to like that, but will do, Douglas. I expect I’ll see you not long after you’re done.”

* * *

“I just can’t understand it, Lady Carolyn. It seems like every time I turn around the people of this diocese have committed yet another sin -- I swear I’ve seen some members of the Church in my confessionals as regularly as the Sun’s journey around the Earth! How can I feel that I’m making a positive difference in these peoples’ lives if there’s no sign of improvement?”

“I assure you, Father Crieff, that your efforts have not gone to waste. In fact, I’m quite pleased with your work since you’ve arrived.”

“Th-thank you, Lady Carolyn. It’s just that...well, I can’t help but be concerned about Father Richardson. I’m sure you’re aware of the many and varied sins and blasphemies he commits every few weeks? With a role model like that, it’s no wonder that the diocese is overrun by crimes against the Church.”

“Hmm, yes. Father Richardson is indeed a peculiar -- and entirely too self-centered, on many occasions -- coadjutor. While I’ll be the first to admit that you have a valid reason to be worried about his, ah, influence over the people of MJN, it would do you well to keep your opinions on him to yourself.”

“But, Lady Carolyn! As bishop, it is my right and responsibility to bring him back to the path of goodness from which he has strayed! I am duty-bound --”

“You are duty-bound to obey me, Father Crieff. I will take care of Father Richardson.”

“With all due respect, my lady, I am in the perfect position to help him, whereas you --”

“Whereas I am your superior and far more familiar with Father Richardson’s ways than you. I will take care of it, Father Crieff. Now, if that’s all, go back out there and sniff out those sinners. We’re a few pieces of gold short this week.”

* * *

“Douglas, we need to talk.”

“Ah, Lady Carolyn! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Arthur tells me that he’s ‘tortured’ you in my dungeons six times in the last two months, when for the three years I’ve known you before that you’ve been -- well, not a model figure of Christianity by any means, but certainly not the height of blasphemy that I’ve been hearing about.”

“What can I say? The Most Reverend Skipper brings out the worst of me. Quite literally, in fact; I haven’t felt so good in years.”

“Yes, the miraculous healing of strained or injured backs; I’ve heard all about it. While I certainly can’t complain about the revenue that’s been coming in since you started spreading the word, I suspect that the High Inquisitor wouldn’t be nearly as understanding if he caught wind of this scheme of yours.”

“Ah, but he won’t hear about it unless someone _tells_ him, now will he? And with everyone aware of the scheme firmly convinced that they’re getting a good deal out of it, who’s going to ruin that by giving up the goat?”

“Father Crieff is getting suspicious, and he’s got his sights set on you.”

“Is that a glimmer of concern for my well-being I detect? Goodness, Carolyn, I didn’t know you cared.”

“You laugh now, Douglas, but I can assure you that the High Inquisitor’s interrogators are far less gentle than Arthur. And, if word gets out about my _divine plan_ , it could be Arthur and my heads on the line, too.”

“Don’t worry, Carolyn. I have it under control.”

* * *

“Ah, Father Richardson! I-I was just looking for you. Er. Would you -- I mean, not that I want to because I _don’t,_ but I don’t know how else to get through to you, and, well … do you want to get a drink with me?”

“Why, Father Crieff, this is all so sudden. Are you suggesting that we partake in recreational alcohol? _You?_ I shall have to review texts from our ancient oracles: The Apocalypse wasn’t scheduled until several centuries from now.”

“Hilarious as always, Father Richardson. I’m not proud of this, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and your need is indeed desperate. I’ve been forced to send you to the dungeons a half-dozen times since I arrived, and no matter what I say, you persist in your blasphemous ways. I just can’t get through to you. So, perhaps a bit of compromise on my part may be exactly what you need to find your way back to the path of righteousness.”

“Well, far be it from me to deny any man the pleasures of drink. Come along; I know a place that sells excellent ale.”

* * *

“So y’see, ‘s all in the _interpation_ o’ th’ Book: Some says that th’ stories are cym -- sin -- _sym-ball-ick_ , but they’re not! They’re real, all’v’em, and ‘s so uncredible that we can share in that tr’ition through the celebration ‘f ‘r Lord.”

“‘Sym-ball-ick’? Lord, give me patience. My goodness, how are you so drunk? You’ve only had two flagons, and it’s not a particularly strong brew.”

“‘Ve never drunk anything but communion wine before! I-I couldn’t; it wouldn’ befit m’ station. I’m a _bishop!_ ”

“Well, now you are, yes, but you weren’t always, were you? What did you do before you joined the Church?”

“I read th’ Bible. I mean, I’ve always wanted t’be a man o’ th’ cloff, ‘ver since I was six years old.”

“What did you want to be before then?”

“Jesus.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that certainly explains a lot.”

“What ‘bout you?”

“It may not completely surprise you to know that I had significantly less blinding devotion to the Church, but I saw certain _advantages_ to becoming a priest and took the opportunities afforded me.”

“Yeah, c’n see that. You’re a terrible bishop, al’ays sayin’ stuff ‘bout the Bible bein’ wrong, an’ I oughtta...oughtta.... Hahaha! ‘Member when you said we come from monkeys thousans years ago? _Really_ , Father Richardson? You’re so funny! Thas why everbody likes you. Hahaha!”

“Careful where you wave your arms, _Skipper!_ I may be a sinner, but you are _drunk_.”

“‘n in th’ morn’, I’ll be a sinner, but you’ll still be sober! Ha! I heard that fr’m a man trainin’ for priesthood.”

“I think he might have said it the other way around, then, but who am I to judge? Speaking of being drunk, how are you liking your first real experience with alcohol?”

“‘s great! Feel like I can fly! I can fly as well as any...fly.”

“If you keep flapping your arms around like that, I don’t doubt it.”

“Hmm, yes. Oh, my flagon’s empty. Imma get ‘nother. Stay there, and I’ll be back soon!”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s wise, at this point. Watch your step, there’s a spill -- !”

“Gwaah -- Oof! Owww...”

“Oh, dear. Here, let me help you up. And, back to the rectory we go.”

* * *

“Good morning, Father Crieff. How are you feeling today?”

“Horrible, and would you stop yelling, please? My head’s killing me, my stomach feels like the Lord’s own wrath is churning it, and my back _must_ have the devil’s footprints from where he danced across it.”

“You did take quite the fall last night; I’m sure that stool will never feel the same. Are you quite well enough to work today?”

“I have to be, don’t I? I have a responsibility to the diocese, and a night of overindulgence cannot keep me from -- Yeoow!”

“If you’re reacting that poorly to a simple pat on the back, you’re in no state to go into work.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice! _You’re_ certainly not going to do it. Besides, it’s just a simple muscle injury. There’s nothing to be done about it but pray for healing and wait for it to go away on its own.”

“Hmm...I might have another idea about that. In fact, I know of just the way to fix your back.”

“Father Richardson, if you know of such a method, I demand that you tell me.”

“Okay, here’s what you need to do. Repeat after me: The Earth goes ‘round the Sun.”

~ Cue Music (The End) ~


End file.
